The Coxsackie Saga: Trunk's Trick

Despite being the dead of night, planet Sandoro was a sweltering 102.7 degrees according to Giru's readings. In the stillness of her tiny quarters, Pan could hear the hum of the ship's cooling system as it struggled to compete with the blistering heat.

It was doing well. The temperature inside the ship was a constant 70 degrees and Pan had to snuggle tightly underneath her quilts to keep from shivering. Her mattress and pillow, though not designed for comfort, were soft and cozy. The ship's air conditioning was loud, but it provided a constant background drone that Pan usually found relaxing. All this combined with the fact that her room was pitch dark usually made for plenty restful hours of sleep.

But not tonight.

And not because she wasn't tired. In fact, she had fallen into a tranquil sleep almost as soon as she'd laid down, just to be awakened a few minutes later by sharp, painful stomach cramps. They had only lasted a few seconds, but left her feeling light-headed and mildly sick to her stomach.

So the quarter sayian found herself tossing restlessly in bed, fighting with a swarm of butterflies that had taken up residence in the pit of her belly.

“What's wrong with me,” Pan complained as she rolled on her back, lightly rubbing her growling stomach. She felt like she was going to puke, or have diarrhea. She didn't want either and hoped her stomach would settle on it's own..

It didn't. She was hit by a heavy cramp and a strong, sudden desire to void her bowel. A soft, dismal moan escaped her lips as she rolled onto her knees.

“It'll pass, it'll pass, it'll pass...” she chanted to herself. Another sharp cramp hit her and she folded over, clutching her abdomen with both hands.

“Please not this,” she whimpered. “Please let it pass.” Slowly, the cramping subsided but the urge only intensified. A deep, low gurgle emitted from her stomach, almost like it was begging her for release.

As pressure on her anus built, Pan began rocking back and forth on the bed. The din of the ship's cooling system drowned out the sound of squeaky bedsprings and her soft moaning. For several minutes the young woman wrestled with her body. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she scolded herself. How could someone with sayian blood be reduced to a weak, whimpering mass by the need to defecate.

Without warning, her rear opened and a tiny jet of poop escaped. Pan bolted upright and gasped loudly. She managed to clamp the flow off before her panties took any damage, but that had sunk it. This urge was not going to pass. She needed a toilet.

In a flash, she tossed her covers off and, with one hand pressing her butt cheeks together, rushed toward the door. She squinted heavily against the light in the hall, but didn't slow down. She didn't have time to let her eyes adjust, she couldn't hold it that long.

She dashed around the corner and into the ship's bridge. Nestled in the back of the circular room was the ship's only bathroom. Her pace didn't slow. She didn't even acknowledge that Trunks and Grandpa were fixing her with bewildered looks. Halfway to the bathroom, she hooked her thumbs around the waistbands of her orange sleep pants and white panties and yanked them to her knees. She slammed the door as she stepped into the restroom and, with a grateful sigh, plopped heavily on the toilet.

Immediately, her bowels released. A mixture of gas and wet, semi-solid material blasted loudly into the bowl. After a few eruptions, the audible farts stopped but a river of thick, loose crap flowed freely from her body and splashed into the water below her.

Pan was shocked by how easily it all came out, and by how much there was. Even when the constant flow abated, the mess came out it several series of soft chunks and noisy blasts of gas. The pain in her stomach was replaced by an empty feeling. Pan allowed herself a deep, gratified sigh of relief.

After she wiped, she examined her panties. Luckily, they were skid free. The spurt that escaped in her room must not have gotten to cotton. Pleased that she had dodged disaster, she flushed the toilet. The water, now a lumpy brown, began to swirl and go down the drain where the feces and paper would be filtered out, the water boiled, condensed and used to refill the bowl. The entire process took about a minute. Capsule Corps's technology never failed to amaze the quarter sayian.


***About seven minutes earlier***


Trunks was ripped away from his admiration for Sandoro's starry night sky by a rapid tapping of feet down the near-by hall. He peeked at the clock on the ship's computer. Less than two hours, he thought. That was fast.

He watched as Pan rounded the corner. A look of painful desperation was painted on her face. For a moment, Trunks wasn't sure she was going to make it. Without warning, she pulled her pants down, revealing her pale, bare bottom. Trunks almost choked on his tonge as she closed the door to the bathroom. A series explosive farts echoed from the bathroom and around the circular bridge and a pang of guilt touched him. Sorry, Pan, he thought. It had to be done.

“Wow, she must be sick,” Goku said.

“Yeah,” Trunks said distantly. Through their journeys, Trunks always worried that Pan was going to get herself hurt. He wished she would stay in the ship, but she was as hard headed as her grandpa. So, he had come up with a plan to keep her here.

Every night before she went to sleep, she drank a tall glass of milk. Tonight, Trunks had loaded her glass with a powerful laxative. Another fart erupted from the bathroom. It sounded like it was kicking in.

“You know, she shouldn't come with us for supplies tomorrow if she's sick,” Trunks said.

“Yeah,” Goku replied, thoughtfully. “You tell her.”

“Wha- me? Why?” The toilet flushed and the sink ran for a moment before Pan stepped out. Trunks sighed. Here goes.

“You okay,” he asked her.

“I'm fine,” she replied quickly.

“But, don't you have the runs,” Goku asked, an innocently confused look dancing across his face.

Pan's cheeks reddened. Her arms crossed and her nose went up indignantly. “So what if I do,” she challenged. “You shouldn't ask such embarrassing questions, Grandpa.”

“Maybe you should stay here while Goku and I go for supplies tomorrow, Pan.” Trunks braced himself for the onslaught of anger he knew was coming.

“WHAT!?” Pan shouted. Her fists clenched at her sides. “Not a chance!”

“B-b-but Pan,” Trunks said, trying to plan his next words so as not to further incur her wrath. “It's already so hot on the surface of the planet and with your, uh, problem you could get dehydrated and...”

Pan stormed over to his chair and got in his face. “So what! No one ever died from having the runs, Trunks! I'm going with you tomorrow and that's that.” She turned on her heel and began walking back to her room. “Besides, I'll be better by morning anyway!”

“But, Pan,” Trunks started. His words fell on deaf ears and he sighed in defeat.

“I think she gets that from Videl,” Goku stated matter-of-factly.

“Goku,” Trunks said. “We can't take her with us tomorrow. She might get hurt.” Or slow us down, he thought.

The older man who looked like a small child nodded. “Yeah, but what are we going to do? You heard her.”

Trunks nodded. “Yeah, we'll just have to leave before she gets up.”

“Alright,” Goku agreed. “But she's going to be angry when we get back.”

“I know,” Trunks replied, rubbing his temples. “Believe me, I know.”

* * *
A bulky figure moved with deceptive fluidity across the sandy dessert floor. It, like many of the creatures in Sandoro's yawning dessert landscape, possessed only rudimentary intelligence. It didn't recognize the large, spherical ship as a vehicle capable of traversing galaxies. It didn't even consider the possibility that the object housed travelers. It only knew one thing. It's home had been invaded.

A low, threatening snarl resonated from deep within it's throat and, with stealth belying it's size, began approaching the intruder.

Suddenly, the object hissed and dropped something to the dessert floor. Twin antennae on the creature's head shot up in alarm and it could feel it's great strength beginning to wane. Whatever had been deposited on the sand was affecting it. The snarl turned into an angry growl. Some sort of defensive secretion? The creature didn't know, but it realized it was helpless for the time being.

Still growling, the creature moved it's large frame back into the dessert night...

TO BE CONTINUED...